Short and Bossy
by Cerridwen7777
Summary: A series of drabbles and episode tags. Rated for probable language and gore.
1. Aftermath

**I'll be posting some drabbles and short pieces here. Basically it will be ideas that have come to me but won't work as full-fledged stories. Most will be episode tags, etc. Please review, and as always I answer all reviews at my blog.**

**And no, I don't own the boys, much to my dismay.**

**This first piece is a tag to The Benders, in which there appeared my favorite female character ever on Supernatural. It is told from Dean's perspective.**

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As soon as she says it, I know she's lying.

"Shot. Trying to escape."

And I know then that the demon revenge got her, just like it has me. I can't fault her. There's plenty of blame to go around in this redneck shithole, but I wouldn't place any of it on her. Not for this. I'd have done the same thing if I were in her spot. I'd have blown that tobacco-stinkin' sunuvabitch to hell and gone if he'd been responsible for killing my brother. I'd kill the world to revenge Sam, and even that wouldn't be enough.

She's shell-shocked. Blank faced and glassy eyed. She may be a cop, but I can tell for sure that she's never seen anything like this. This is world-class evil; evil that makes you wonder if you're going to wake up with a start in your bed, gasping from the horror of the dream. I wish she could wake up from it. But she won't. Now she's just another person who has seen how fucked up this world can be, and it will change her forever.

She's honest though, when she says that knowing what happened to her brother doesn't make it any easier. She can't know yet that it won't ever get easier. For the rest of her life, every time she thinks of her brother, of this night, her stomach will knot and her skin will crawl. Her brother will forever be linked with the memory of evil, of murder, of terror in the woods. Just like my mom's memory always brings the scent of burning flesh and the sound of baby Sam crying.

She smiles as she sends us away, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling. But I see what she's trying to hide, the quiver of her chin, the tears threatening to betray her. Part of me wants to hug her, to gather her up and tell her that it will be all right, that the pain will go away.

But I don't. Because it won't. So I leave her there in the woods, with the body of the man she killed for revenge and the memory of her brother, and with the knowledge that her life will never be the same again.


	2. Lessons

**Dean's thoughts at the end of Shadow...please review...**

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"Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's stronger without us around."

Dad knows I'm right. The second the words leave my mouth he knows. I see his eyes change and it makes me sad. I want nothing more than to stay with him, after all this worrying, all this searching, all this wondering. After all that, 15 minutes, interrupted by blood and pain, and then goodbye? It's not fair, but it is what it is. I swallow down the hurt, reminding my heart that it's the right thing to do.

The hurt disappears, deep down in my gut, but is replaced by a swelling wave of anger. It sucks and churns in my chest like a whirlpool, whirling and ebbing. I drop a mask to hide it from Sam and Dad, ducking my chin and averting my eyes.

Of course, Sam has to argue the point. I look from my father to my brother, hiding my thoughts beneath hooded eyes. They've always done this. Sam wants to rush in like a bull that smells a china shop, common sense be damned. He gets his Irish up and there's no turning back. He's convinced that his heart will lead him in the right direction. In that way, he and dad are more alike than Sam would ever admit. He doesn't see that sometimes the right thing to do is the thing that hurts the worst. The fact of the matter is that sometimes following your heart is the best way to get your ass killed.

Dad's hand is firm on Sam's shoulder. "For now you've gotta trust me, son. Okay? You've gotta let me go." Sam is fighting tears, sucking wind and twitching, just itching to argue. But he knows, deep down, that we're right. He squeezes Dad's shoulder, and for a short moment I wonder if he'll let go. But he nods and lets go, tears wobbling on his lashes, chin quivering.

Sam is learning the hardest lesson about love. Sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go.


	3. Masks

**This came to me way back around ELAC. The look on Dean's face after he bashes the trunk in on the Metalicar is what I'm thinking of. Please review...**

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He has so many masks, it's hard to keep track. Sometimes he laughs to himself, imagining a sexy librarian cataloguing the masks in the stacks of his brain, winking at him behind her tortoiseshell glasses. He has a mask for every occasion: charming, sexy, angry, dangerous, determined, nonchalant; hell, even drunk. They drop into place with ease, so quickly that no one even sees the shutters behind his eyes slam closed, hiding the truth shining there.

Any time he needs them, they're there at his fingertips. They hide every hurt, every fear, and every weakness. Those things are dangerous and will get him killed, sure enough. The masks are the most important tool he has, more so than his guns, his salt, his knives, his brother. He needs them more than he needs anything else.

Only when he is truly alone does he put them away, file them and store them until he needs them again. The masks fall away and his face goes blank, eyes pooling deep and injured, tired and sad. When he's alone he can show all the anger, all the pain, all the loneliness, all the fear. He can let it out, bleed it dry, clean the wound. He can clear himself blank, kill all the emotions that put him in danger.

And then when he is empty, he can finally rest.


	4. Broken

**_I was watching All Hell Breaks Loose Pt 2, and was struck by the look on Dean's face when Bobby talks about burying Sam. Just had to write this. Please review, then head to my blog. And please don't razz me about the grammar. This is Bobby talking._**

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It was when I told him that it was time we buried Sam. That's when I saw it.

It was the look in the boy's eyes that scared me more than anything. He could hit me, punch at me all day long, that's nothin', but his eyes, them dead eyes, that's what got me. He said he was fine, insisted on it, but he ain't. Never will be again.

I've seen him look rough before, 'specially when John died. He'd swallowed up all that pain then, too, but you could still see it behind his eyes, a little light that shined out with his hurt. But now? There's nothing behind there now, nothing but a blankness, a blackness. He looks like he aged ten years, all in the second it took for Sam to bleed out in his arms.

Only thing he showed was anger. No, ain't so much anger as rage. I could almost feel it boilin' off him. He squared off with me, yelled at me, shoved my ass like I was some punk. It was somethin' I never would have imagined he'd do, not Dean. Not John's little soldier.

The only glimpse of who he used to be was when he looked at me and said, in this little boy's voice, "I'm sorry." Damn near broke my heart to hear it, 'cause he's about as close to a son as I've got. If I could've died instead of Sam, I'd have done it, so Dean wouldn't have that look in his eye, that pain in his heart. He don't deserve it.

I didn't want to leave him there, alone with Sam's cold body, but there was no arguin' with Dean. Somethin' in the boy was broke, and I knew I couldn't fix it. The only one who could was lyin' dead on the bed in the back.


	5. Proxy

**I know Jo is a polarizing figure in the SPN universe, but I kind of liked her. I think I understand her, and while she occasionally crossed into the annoying, on the whole, I thought she was a character with potential. Mostly, I thought that her "feelings" for Dean ran a lot deeper than what people gave her credit for. Please review. :)**

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He seemed like the kind of guy who could take care of me. I wouldn't ever admit that to anyone, of course, being as I pretend to be a hard-ass myself. And that _certainly_ wasn't my first thought, of course. My first thought was more along the lines of how good he looked in those jeans, and how much better he would look without them. What can I say; it had been a long drought with no one to look at but Ash. Say what you want, but nobody deserves that.

But as time went by and I saw more of him, things started to change. It was less about that strong, silent, sexy façade he put on. I started to see the way he treated his brother, protecting and caring for him. I started to want that. The only people who were constant in my life were Mom and Ash. Ash is, well, Ash. And Mom raised me to be tough, self-sufficient, like she is. She's not exactly a soft touch, and isn't much of one for taking care of anybody else. The last person I ever remember taking care of me was my dad. I never felt safer than when I was in my dad's arms. And I guess I saw something in Dean that reminded me of him.

When I went to Philadelphia I thought that maybe I could show him, not to mention my mom, that I'm tough enough to carry my own weight, that he wouldn't have to worry about me. Well, _that_ sort of blew up in my face. I do have to admit that hearing him yell my name when I was trapped in that sick bastard's crypt was one of the sweetest things I've ever heard, in a sickening sort of way. But I got an inkling then that what I wanted couldn't ever be.

The inkling turned to certainty when he found me tied up in that bar, beat to hell by the demon inside his brother. He made everything pretty damned clear before he went after Sam. I see now that for him it's hard enough toprotect and care for his brother, and that it's not fair the put myself on his shoulders. He can't give that much of himself to anybody else. Not when he's carrying Sam and the weight of the memory of his parents. But understanding doesn't make it hurt any less. I don't know that it ever will.


	6. Tricks

**While my computer was busted I took some time to do some SPN marathons on DVD. I watched Mystery Spot, and got to thinking. Why would the Trickster care about the demons knowing that Dean was Sam's weakness? Why was he invested? So I drabbled. Please review.**

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I tried to warn Sam. I told him flat out that Dean was his weakness and that hell knew it too. He thought I was just toying with him for fun. And well, yeah, it was fun, playing with him. And as far as coming up with all sorts of wonderful ways to knock off that arrogant brother of his, well, that was just icing. I do have to admit that I enjoy teaching humans that life sucks shit through a straw. But the fact remains, this was probably the most serious joke I ever played. But typical human, Sam failed to see the big picture.

He was supposed to be learning how to live without Dean; how to accept the loss, cope, and go on. Instead he turned into a machine, bent on wiping out what humans would call "evil". He was so intent on finding me and saving his brother that he failed to save himself. He let that epic bromance of his cloud his judgment and he turned into a murderer.

I wanted to see how far he would go. Sam Winchester carries danger inside him, and I wanted to see if he would let it win. I wanted to see how far into the dark he would go to get what he wanted. But he didn't just let the danger inside him win, he embraced it. He drank it in and used it. When I borrowed the face of his Grizzly-Adams-looking friend, he didn't hesitate. He wasn't sure it was me, but he sure as shit took the chance. Lucky for Grizzly, he was right.

So why do I care, you ask? I care because someone is trying to take away my toys. Rules say I can't interfere directly, but the way I see it, there's nothing wrong with backing the horse most likely to win, right? And if you can chuck some steroids in its feedbag, so much the better. As much as I hate to say it, those Winchester boys are about the only ones who can stop what's coming and save this big chessboard world of mine. I mean, Sam and Dean came closer than anyone ever has to beating me at my own game.

So what did I learn about Sam Winchester? I learned that he'll go as far into the dark as it takes to get what he wants. Maybe further. Because once the darkness has you, it won't let you go.


	7. Choose Life

**I was listening to the Trainspotting soundtrack at work today when this idea came to me. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN ITALICS. And if you haven't seen Trainspotting, shame on you.**

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_Choose life. _

_Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family._

Choose transience. Choose isolation. Choose loneliness.

_Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers._

Choose poverty. Choose clothes run ragged from too many Laundromat washings, cars held together with baling wire, spit and hope. Choose living hand to mouth.

_Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends._

Choose do-it-yourself stitches and bandages torn from your own old clothes. Choose stealing and conning to buy your next meal. Choose not being able to trust even your own blood family.

_Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics._

Choose living out of a suitcase and the trunk of your car. Choose a different broken-down motel bed every three days. Choose sex-and-drug stained quilts and rusty bathroom sinks.

_Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning._

Choose adrenaline and blood-soaked nights and mornings passed out from pain and fatigue in a bed that doesn't belong to you.

_Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth._

Choose bleeding and fighting and shooting and dying. And stuffing fucking gas-station junk food into your mouth.

_Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself._

Choose going out in a blaze of glory, shooting and swinging and bleeding and dying with curses on your lips. Choose leaving the world with no one to remember your name, no one to mourn your death. No one to replace you.

_Choose your future. Choose life._


	8. Fate and Regret

**Just a very short one from Mary's perspective, thinking about how her deal changed everything for the Winchesters. Please review...I answer all review on my LJ page (a blatant attempt to make friends over there, hint hint).**

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I never wanted this for them. My choice, my mistake, led us inexorably here, and part of me would give anything to take it back. But the horror of it is that to take it back would mean that I would never know my two beloved boys, the two that tether my soul to the world. Without John, there would be no Dean, no Sam. But with John, my two greatest treasures have suffered without end.

I still remember them young. They live as tiny children in my memories, and I see that shadow in them whenever I look at the two tall men that those children grew into. Dean was always on my heels, eager to help, to be part of whatever I was doing. He was my little shadow. If he thought I was upset or angry with him he was inconsolable, clinging to me and pleading for me to forgive him. Maybe some part of him knew that we wouldn't have much time together and he wanted to savor every second. He was forever begging his Daddy for a dog. We were going to get him one for Christmas that year. I can still see that little boy deep inside his eyes when he lets his guard down, in his most vulnerable of moments.

Sam…such a curious boy. He was the smartest baby in the history of the universe, no matter what any other mother says. I could see the intelligence in his eyes, in the way he took in everything new. He soaked in all the colors and shapes and textures like a sponge, a tiny little baby eager to learn everything about the world. But now he knows more about the world than I ever wanted him to. He was independent…he didn't want you to help him with anything, always had to do it himself. His first sentence, which I didn't get to hear with my earthly ears, was _I can do it._

I cannot take it back. I was a fool whose mistake brought her the two most precious gifts in the world, and whose mistake then took them away from her. I had dreams for them both, dreams for them to be happy. But those dreams turned to ashes. I didn't know. How could I know?

Oh, my boys…I miss them so much, and I will never be able to tell them how sorry I am that I did this to them. And even if I could tell them, could they ever forgive me? How could they forgive me when I can't forgive myself?


End file.
